The Thoughts of General Jack
by Su Freund
Summary: When he takes command of the SGC, Jack considers the consequences of change, and doubts his own capabilities. He has not anticipated the tumultuous events which are about to take place.


Title: The Thoughts of General Jack

Author: Su Freund

Website: www ficwithfins com (insert . instead of spaces in the address)

Category: Episode tag, Angst, Drama

Content Warnings: Use of mild language and reference to one major swear word

Pairings: None

Season: 8, set during the events of Zero Hour

Spoilers: Up to and including Zero Hour (S8)

Rating: PG

Summary: When he takes command of the SGC, Jack considers the consequences of change, and doubts his own capabilities. He has not anticipated the tumultuous events which are about to take place.

Sequel/Series Info: None

Status: Complete.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2004 Su Freund

File Size: 76 KB

Archive: My site, Jackfic yes, Gateworld, FanFiction Net, Jack & Sam's Pad

Author's Note: Thanks to Bonnie for her beta and critique of my original version of this fic which made me rewrite for the better, although somewhat longer...

On my site, this fic is illustrated with a totally wonderful artwork of Jack by Lightfoot (THUD alert), made into a great book cover by Fulinn28.

**The Thoughts of General Jack**

Jack woke with a start and threw the covers back quickly. Sweat beaded on his face and the covers were slightly damp with his night-time restlessness. He couldn't recall exactly what it was that had made him leap awake but sleep seemed to be sporadic these days, and his dreams fraught with danger and horror. Dreams? More like nightmares. Always subject to a lot of nightmares, lately they seemed more frequent again. Just when I thought I was kicking the habit, my life rears up and bites me in the ass, he thought.

God knows there was a lot to have nightmares about but he'd believed he had it under control. Sadly, his mind insisted that his subconscious think about the horrors even if he tried not to. It was hard keeping things locked down.

He got up and stretched, padding along to the kitchen for some water. Didn't they say drinking lots of water cured almost anything? That and laughter. Well ha, ha... very funny. So that's where he'd been going wrong for all these years; not enough laughter. He had a small share; probably way too small. There was a time when his house will filled with it. In all likelihood he lacked the old H2O as well; perhaps he ought to stop adding whiskey.

Jack drank. He could drink a whole hell of a lot and still remain fairly sober, but once he went over the top he was so not good company. He drank, but he wasn't an alcoholic, although he could have been. There were many things he could have been but he chose to save the universe for a living. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

Tough job was the understatement of the century. He was good at it and it had its compensations; but it could hold terror, loss and pain. Come to think of it, most of his life had been like that. It's just that now the canvas was so vast and, if he screwed up, the consequences could be the end of civilisation as he knew it. That was one hell of a responsibility to be bearing on one's shoulders. Life had been simple once... now when was that exactly?

Things had recently got one heck of a lot harder too; the burden greater. General Jack O'Neill. Sounded good; great pay, big office, shiny car with driver attached, a hot line to the President of the United States, plus regular trips to The White House - way cool! However, one should never forget that he was now the man; the one in charge of the whole shooting match.

The number of lives he was directly responsible for day to day had skyrocketed. Then there was the fate of the universe part, bad enough as plain old Colonel O'Neill - who regularly seemed to hold that fate in his hands - but General O'Neill really had his work cut out. Jack was beginning to understand how fish felt when they were left out of the water; floundering, gasping for air, drowning.

What option did he really have? Carter had been right; if not him then it might be someone worse. He couldn't trust anyone else, but wasn't sure he trusted himself either.

He had to admit that George Hammond was going to be a hard act to follow. The man had been a saint. It wasn't until recently that Jack realised quite how saintly the man was. He ought to write to the Pope or something. Jack had always liked Hammond, respected and admired him, but now he really, really appreciated him - really! It was a good thing that Jack had learned to juggle when he was younger as, boy, did he need that skill right now!

The fate of the world, of the universe, entrusted to the hands of Jonathan O'Neill from Chicago. It was quite something. No one would believe this of that lanky, rebellious kid from the old neighbourhood. He'd come from an ordinary Irish Catholic family who often struggled to make ends meet and put food on the table. By all rights he should be in jail, not running the SGC. There but for the grace of God, and all that. It had been a close run thing once but he'd chosen the right path. It was comforting to recall that he was up to the serious decisions.

He could feel the start of one of his headaches. They had once suspected that gate travel caused them but, no, he was pretty sure he knew what it really was; paperwork. Oy! There were requisition forms for everything you could imagine including some to requisition the forms themselves. Was there a form to requisition the form that requisitioned the forms? How far did it go? He had yet to uncover all of it's mysteries, and miseries.

He swallowed a couple of aspirin and thought about how he'd got the job. If he was honest, he didn't really know how. Kinsey must be spitting nails. That was definitely one of the upsides of all this. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to get under Kinsey's skin. The man made his skin crawl so it was fitting he should return the favour.

Apparently everyone believed he was a bone fide hero; it was one of the things that made him acceptable to all parties. That was pretty cool, but also daunting. It gave him a lot to live up to and he seriously doubted his ability. The world must have gone mad to promote Colonel Jack O'Neill. Certainly he had never conceived of it. He had always been just a little too out of line and irreverent, and was surprised to make Colonel. On the other hand he'd been amazed about ending up in the Air Force at all, but that was another story.

It was all pretty astonishing to the humble Jack. He was very proud of the accolades that had been bestowed upon him, and aware it was indeed a great honor, but was neither sure he had earned it, nor that he was up to it.

He wished Janet Frasier had lived to see this day. She would have been highly amused by it, he thought. She was sorely missed by her friends and colleagues and Jack was no different to the rest of them. He'd get used to Doctor Brightman eventually, but Janet seemed pretty irreplaceable. He considered her a friend, and hoped she'd considered him one. She'd saved his life countless times but more than that, she had saved his soul.

Janet was the one person at the SGC who had seen him at his very worst. On nights just like this one in the infirmary, sleepless and filled with horror, she had been at his side and talked him back to normality. He often pondered if she ever got any sleep as she always seemed to be there, no matter what.

Her loss was still hard to deal with, although no one would ever have realised quite how badly it had hit him. He wasn't talking and rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve. In private he mourned the people he lost while publicly appearing stoical, if not downright unfeeling sometimes.

However, Jack was far from unfeeling, keenly taking every sorrow to heart, deep inside his breast. Janet's death was his fault. He'd been in charge of that debacle, ergo she was his responsibility. He should have been taking more care of her.

Sure, at the time he was pre-occupied with a few dozen Jaffa plus death gliders and al'kesh bombardingthemfrom all directions. He was lucky he wasn't dead himself, but that wasn't the point. The man in charge was accountable. Now his team had grown and he would intensely feel the weight of that burden when his people were hurt or killed.

They'd all been delighted when Wells had named his baby for his saviour. That had warmed his heart and he thought Janet would have liked it. Wells had lived to see his daughter born and would likely see her raised and married. Synchronicity. It proved that life went on after all, and one had to accept the loss - and the gain. Without life there was no death and without death there was no life. Jack wondered whether the thought was profound in any way and dismissed that as a fancy.

Most people underestimated Jack's strength of feeling because he hid it well. Take Daniel's for example. Carter seemed to think she'd cornered the market on caring about Daniel's death. He'd overheard her conversation with Teal'c; those ships are pretty small, all things considered. It hurt that she thought him so heartless and he'd believed she knew better. He was wrong and that stung. Her own grief stopped her from seeing beyond herself.

To be misunderstood and misinterpreted seemed to be one of his roles in life. So be it. He couldn't help being the sort of person he was and didn't intend to make any apologies for it.

Daniel was his friend and he'd missed him. Sure they had their differences, lots of them, and were totally disparate personalities. Despite that, somehow they had seemed to complement each other over the years. It was an enigma, but Jack just accepted it was so. He was pleased to have him back and, as usual, his contribution to the SGC was more than worthwhile, incalculable in fact. Of course, Jack would never say that to Daniel.

SG-1 had been charmed for a lot of years, and Daniel's death had made them realise that they were vulnerable and merely human after all. It was the first time the team had truly known death, despite their many close misses. Instead of bringing them together it had thrown them apart for a while, and that was his fault too. Maybe he should have given the rest of his team a group hug, or something. That wasn't totally beyond Jack's ability, although it had been at the time

A knock at the door interrupted his navel gazing. That will be the car, he thought, taking a deep breath and going to answer. Cool about the car, pity about the job he had to take to get it. He didn't want to be in charge, but he was better than the other man, whoever he might be. What if they got a creep like Bauer?

Jack shuddered, thinking that the first time he mentioned the layout of a report to someone he'd ask Teal'c to put him out of his misery and shoot him. Screw the reports, let's just get the job done, and done well. There was more at stake here than the Pentagon's huge contribution to the employment of filing clerks. A lot more; and it was now all down to him.

"General O'Neill." The driver saluted smartly when Jack opened his door.

"At ease, airman." Jack replied, responding with his own salute.

Cool! He briefly wondered whether the neighbours ever noticed his change of status. One day he might actually get used to it... This is the way to travel, Jack sighed, leaning back into the comfort of his car.

As they drove to the mountain he idly recalled one of the better decisions and jobs he'd done since his promotion, picturing the scene and recalling every nervous feeling he had felt.

Flashback:

The gate room doors opened before him. There he was, the goldfish bowl; it was sink or swim time and he had that drowning feeling again. The room was filled with people and Jack was proud of each and every person there.

Jack took a deep breath and tried to look like a General; brimming with confidence in his ability, the man in charge. Weir stood at the top of the ramp ready to hand over control to him. His ex-team mates were at the foot of it and the whole room, stood to attention. Oh boy; here goes!

He walked solemnly up the ramp to the podium hoping his nerves didn't show. His own team might guess at it, but he was fairly sure that no one else would. No one else left alive on this base had ever got close enough to the real Jack O'Neill.

"At ease." Jack told the assembled throng, pausing briefly, "You all know how much I love speeches, so I'll make this short. I wish I could say I didn't owe anything to anyone, but the truth is I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for the courage and support of each and every one of you. I hope I can be as good a leader as we've had in the past, and as good as you deserve."

That sounded pretty cool, he thought. So far, so good, now to the part he was actually looking forward to. She was going to be so proud - he knew he was.

"The other reason I took this job was so I could do really cool stuff like this. It is with great pride that my first order of business as commander of this base is the announcement of the promotion of Major Samantha Carter to Lieutenant Colonel."

The whole room broke out into applause. Carter looked delighted, but also embarrassed. He indicated for her to join him at the head of the ramp, mouthing 'come on', and she stepped forward. He was so looking forward to this. Taking her new insignia in his hands, he started to pin it on her, beaming proudly. Walter Davis read the Promotion Orders.

"The President of the United States has placed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, integrity and abilities of Major Samantha Carter. Major Samantha Carter is promoted to the grade of Lieutenant Colonel, United States Air Force."  
  
He finished with the pins and saluted his 2IC, now to be leader of a team comprising only three people. That was something else he could do, set new precedents. It felt good. 

"Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter." He said and it was music to his ears.

This alone was worth the whole kit and caboodle. Sam more than deserved promotion, and taking over their team. He was glad it would be her and not some macho type. Come to think of it, most people probably considered Jack himself the macho type. This was true only to a certain extent, and his team probably understood that better than anyone, with the exception of his ex-wife.

After the formalities were over, Carter grinned inanely at him and he returned the smile.

"Thank you Sir."

"You're welcome Sam. You deserve it." She turned a little pink at that and looked at her feet. "You do, and you know it. It's time you were your own woman, spread your wings and stop following my lead, as a team leader that is." He added swiftly at the end. She was still under his command after all.

"It's been an honor and privilege to follow that lead Sir." She replied "You're a hard act to follow, but you'll still be here to take a lead General, and I'm glad of that." Hard act to follow? Sweet! She thought the same way about him as he did about Hammond.

"Me too." He responded happily. "My door is always open Sam. Anytime."

"Sir." Her smile broadened even more than Jack thought possible.

Daniel and Teal'c approached to extend their own form of congratulations to their new boss and Jack pondered what he had just said to her; 'Me too'. For the first time that day he genuinely began to believe that he had done the right thing, made the correct choice.

Teal'c would keep an eye on Carter and Jack imagined he would extend the same loyalty to her as he had to him. In his own way the big Jaffa loved Sam and that was gratifying. Daniel too. Very likely he would trust her judgement better than he had Jack's. It was probably something to do with the brotherhood of scientists and mutual regard for each other's genius. All in all it was a satisfactory outcome. Except that he wouldn't be going out there with them anymore. That kind of sucked.

The Present:

The car drew into the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Hi guys, the General's here! General Jack O'Neill. Jack was still incredulous. Wasn't putting him in charge of the SGC something like leaving the kids in charge of the playground? Thought of that way, he found it quite amusing. Trust Jack O'Neill to find amusement in the bizarre and ridiculous.

As he rode down to the bowels of the Earth he thought about the number of people who were depending on him. It was scary. Did all Generals have these doubts, he wondered? Probably. What if he'd been promoted above his capacity to serve? The thought disturbed him. He had to admit he had wondered many times about whether he had made the right choice. Getting the chance to promote Carter was one thing, being in charge of the SGC was entirely another matter. If he was honest, he was having a crisis of confidence.

Did trouble with a capital T follow him everywhere? The whole experience of the last few weeks had been unsettling. Since Thor had saved his life and SG-1 had saved the Asgard - and Carter - from the Replicators, his life had gone to hell in a hand basket.

Negotiating with the freaking Goa'uld, for crying out loud! He still wasn't sure he was happy with the outcome of all that. O'Neill didn't like the idea of some arrogant, scum sucking snake head stinking up a perfectly good safe house somewhere right on mother Earth. You shouldn't mess with those guys, let alone grant them sanctuary. The only thing they understood was power, terror and the front end of a P90. As far as he was concerned the only good Goa'uld was a dead one. Now he had to play diplomat. Go figure!

Once he'd taken over command it hadn't taken long for the proverbial brown stuff to hit the fan. Having to declare a lock down within a few days of his promotion had troubled him. He was in his element because he was in action, not behind the desk, but it still bothered him. Anubis had proved a formidable and tenacious enemy. He was proud of Vaselov, knowing that he would have done exactly the same thing almost without a second thought. Some of these Russian guys weren't so bad after all. However, as long as he was here there was no way they were messing with SG-1.

The incident had reminded him what he'd signed up for, to risk his own neck to defend what he thought was right. At first only the US of A but now that responsibility was a whole heck of a lot broader. For Jack O'Neill it had suddenly got even broader as it encompassed each individual who worked in the SGC as well as the Earth, the universe and everything... an awesome responsibility.

And now all that seemed to occupy him was preparations for the President's visit. Bunting, catering, protocol, security... it was getting so a man couldn't get a decent days work done without signing a zillion forms - in triplicate of course - or making hundreds of decisions about trivia. Why didn't they just let him get on with getting his folks out there, and safely home again. That was all he wanted.

Ah, there's Walter with my cup of coffee, Jack thought as he exited the lift, good man! Learning fast. As soon as he handed his CO the coffee, Davis started babbling, reminding O'Neill what he needed to do that day.

"At 07:30 this morning, SG-8 made scheduled contact from P6J-908. They requested permission to bring an alien life form back to the base for further study." He caught the General's suspicious expression, "Sir, it's just a plant. Your 08:30 debriefing is SG-2 regarding their mission to P8F-809. Folder's on your desk, and with the personnel files you have yet to review." Oy! Here we go...

"How many do I have left?" O'Neill asked 

"All of them." Davis replied and O'Neill sighed heavily at that prospect.

They walked up the stairs into the briefing room. John Prior, the President's advance man, was there presumably discussing yet more security and protocol for the visit. At least it wasn't the Queen of England, they'd probably have to build a brand new toilet especially so she wouldn't have to sit her Royal butt where mere mortals peed.

"Colonel Rudnell has asked me to show you some bunting samples, and, um, Captain Corrigan's still awaiting approval on the buffet menu." Davis continued.

"Bunting." Double oy! When would this ever end? He turned to greet Prior. "John." 

"General."

"You are aware of the fact that this is the most secure military facility on the face of the planet." O'Neill's tone was slightly sardonic.

"Well, actually, sir, there are still a number of issues to be resolved."

"10:00 hours, sir." David interrupted.

"Thank you." O'Neill acknowledged, walking into his office. Now who exactly is this guy sitting in my office, he thought? The man stood up to greet him. "Walter!"

"Sorry, sir. General O'Neill, Mark Gilmore. He's your new administrative aide." Davis said hastily.

"General." Said Gilmore

"Did I order a new ...?" O'Neill started, looking at Walter.

"No, sir."

"Do I really need ...?"

"Yes, sir."

Oh boy, it was going to be one of those days.

In one of his few quite moments later on he stared at the laptop on his desk and slowly started to type.

"Dear General Hammond." He wrote. "Wish you were here and that I was not."

Going to hell in a hand basket was an understatement of gigantic proportions. Life had got way worse than that.

He'd known that he'd hate his old team going off without him. Who was going to watch their backs? For that matter, who was going to watch his? Jack loathed politics and knew that this job was knee deep in machinations and chicanery. Give him a weapon and a real enemy, not some good for nothing power hungry bureaucrat like Kinsey. What he wanted right now was a gun and to be out there looking for SG-1. Instead he was stuck on base feeling pretty useless. Bunting? Sheesh! He had more important things to think about.

O'Neill knew he'd probably pissed Carter and the team off by insisting SG-3 covered their backs. She had thought it was a routine mission, and possibly that he didn't trust her command. She was wrong on both counts. When Ba'al had appeared in the SGC O'Neill wanted to throw up his breakfast but managed to keep up the cool, slightly caustic General act. He knew only too well what capture by Ba'al could mean and dreaded that any of his old team mates should be put through anything remotely resembling his own experience.

The whole Ba'al encounter had been pretty crap. One of these days he'd like to see that guy on his list of dead false gods; it would be a pleasure. He still tried his best not to think about that, which was hard given that Ba'al had just become the latest in a long line of big bad wolves. I'll huff, and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down. He'd very nearly blown Jack's down, that was for sure. He'd come very close to losing himself and becoming his own worse nightmare.

Now the guy was knocking at the door of the SGC. Oh man, that hurt! He could still blow Jack's house down by harming his team; his friends. He didn't have that many friends and he wanted to keep the ones he had very much alive, thank you very much. Friends were a dwindling resource and things had been hard enough since his promotion. I'm still the same old Jack O'Neill, for crying out loud!

Jack wondered how he'd come out of that Ba'al thing a sane man. That really had to count as one of the low points of his life and there seemed to be far too many of those. He could remember every painful and humiliating moment with startling clarity. If he'd had the means with which to end it, he would have done it. Dying many times over, in agony, was not something he'd wish on his worst enemy. The very thought could be enough to bring him out in a cold sweat. Don't lose it now Jack, he lectured himself. You're a General, for crying out loud, act like one.

However, as he worried about his missing friends, he couldn't help but dwell a little. Every time he'd woken up inside the sarcophagus, or in his inescapable cell, he'd wanted to scream. He'd wanted to tell Ba'al everything and anything he knew. He'd despaired, lost hope, given up and come very close to cracking. Daniel Jackson's presence had helped some, but also frustrated and annoyed him. At least Jack had felt something, though, as he feared feeling nothing and empty inside more than anything else he could think of.

The sarcophagus does something to your soul; drains it dry. There was part of him gone that he believed was never coming back. He wasn't entirely sure what was missing, but something was. Maybe the Ancient download thing had just made it worse. How the hell did he know what impact that might have? No one knew; and he'd been fool enough to go through it twice. He had felt himself dying inside his own head. Eventually he had won through and the real Jack O'Neill still existed... somewhere.

Think nice thoughts Jack, he told himself. Carter's butt. Dismissing the one thing he couldn't think about, he pondered the half drafted letter of resignation on his laptop as he stormed through the corridors to pay a little visit to their guest Goa'uld of the week, which was turning into a bad habit by the way. As if anyone ever listened to him, he was only Commander of this base after all!

He really couldn't do this job, and couldn't imagine what made him believe he was up to it. In his mind he listed the recent disasters. SG-1 captured by Ba'al was a real big one. Then there was the alien plant that was taking over the base. Lee had assured him it would be alright and, as it grew, that he could contain it.

Lee was now stating with confidence that he could get rid of it. He'd better or O'Neill was going to kick his geek butt from Cheyenne Mountain to Washington DC so that he could explain it to the President. He bet Carter would have figured it out by now.

O'Neill was thinking he probably hadn't made a great impression on Gilmore, wondering what the man would end up reporting to the President about the competence or otherwise of one Brigadier General Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill. Jack wasn't supposed to know that Gilmore had been sent to evaluate him, but Hammond had given him a heads up. O'Neill was determined not to let it affect any of his command decisions. He would be true to himself as that was all he knew, and it was important to him.

Gilmore had been more than dubious about allowing the plant on base in the first place. Boy, he hoped they got rid of that little hiccup well before the President was due to arrive. His aide at least had the decency to suppress a grin when Jack muttered, almost under his breath.

"Ahhh...I see the f-up fairy has visited us again..."

It proved he had some sense of humour and, in Jack's book, that counted for something. He didn't trust folks who lacked humour. Even Teal'c had a sense of humour and he wasn't even human.

However, Gilmore also hadn't seemed too happy that O'Neill's idea of solving a diplomatic incident was to lock two aliens in a room together. Screw diplomacy! O'Neill was a man who went for the direct, unsubtle and hands on approach. If the President didn't like that, he shouldn't have promoted him in the first place. It wasn't as if he had a reputation for the soft touch.

On top of that was that scheming snake head camel ass. He'd foreseen that granting him sanctuary would bite them on the ass someday. Told you so... a pretty useless and childish reaction, he admonished himself. More important things...

He was about to do something else that he thought would piss Gilmore off but guessed it wouldn't much matter after he'd resigned. O'Neill would show camel ass who was boss around here, and Gilmore. Screw 'em! As he marched behind Camulus through the corridors of the SGC Gilmore looked worried.

"I thought you were just going to question him." He said.

"He didn't have the right answers." O'Neill responded. 

"General, this goes against official policy regarding prisoner exchanges."

"He's not a prisoner. He requested asylum – I'm ungranting it."

"You could be court martialled."

"You know, if it gets my team back, I don't care." 

"But you know it won't – you're sacrificing him for nothing." Gilmore cautioned and O'Neill just gave him a disgusted look.

Sadly, O'Neill's bluff didn't work. It was worth a try. He'd do anything to save his team and wished he believed that pushing the Goa'uld through the event horizon would solve the problem. Dammit, he'd walk through the thing himself if he thought it would help. It wouldn't because he knew in his heart that Ba'al wouldn't keep his side of the bargain. Goa'uld lacked both courage and honour and Jack despised that. They over dressed and over acted as well. Camel ass didn't look so hot in his prison blues; no wonder he was pissed. Sorry we cramped your style you slimy, good for nothing waste of space, he thought.

O'Neill had definitely scared Gilmore half to death. He considered that if his shadow hung around this place for long enough he'd find a whole lot worse to be scared about. He continued typing. If SG-1 was lost and he could find no way to resolve it he definitely did not deserve to be sitting behind this desk.

"I knew it wasn't easy for you, but had I known what it was really like, I would have tried to be less ... of a pain in the ... ass. At least, I would have tried harder."

Jack hated to feel helpless. It was another of his fears; being unable to help himself or his friends. Now here was the reality, haunting and nagging at him while it slowly killed him from the inside out. It probably all came back to the control thing. Was he a control freak? He didn't think so. Wasn't there a difference between a control freak and someone who wants to keep in control? Well, he was now in a position to find out all about control. Oy!

His thoughts were interrupted by the klaxon and he hurried to the control room. It was SG-3 and he preyed they had found something to help.

It was ironic that, just as SG-3 returned with a Zero Point Modulator - an Ancient power source - something as ordinary as a plant should jeopardise them all by cutting the base's own power. Lee told him that the freaking thing was growing inside the walls; both power and communications were down.

Their inability to use the gate endangered his missing team further and this worried O'Neill a great deal, adding to his burden of woes. Worse, Lee wasn't sure how to fix it. O'Neill would give anything to have Carter here right now to solve this; to have his whole team back safe and sound.

As he tried to drift off for some much needed sleep his mind wandered to the Ancients. They had been a regular pain in the mikta, causing no end of trouble. O'Neill thought he must have been crazy to poke his head inside that Ancient head grabbing thing. He'd done it because it needed to be done, and quickly; no real thought or planning involved. Was that why they thought he was a hero, because he was stupid enough to be willing to sacrifice his life for something he believed in? That was just plain common sense to Jack O'Neill. Rewarding him with a star was very nice, but clearly not his style.

Allowing your brain to be taken over by alien devices was not such a great idea. Losing your mind and knowing it is pretty terrifying. When he'd told Daniel he couldn't remember anything it wasn't quite true. He couldn't remember any Ancient knowledge, but he recalled very well the slow loss of his mind. He felt his own volition leaving him piece by piece and, yes, he'd been scared.

There was nothing brave or heroic about that. Jack O'Neill was his own man and hoped he always would be; one of his biggest fears was losing free-will, and control. It was the stuff of his nightmares. He hated imprisonment of any kind. This time the imprisonment had been inside his mind, and that had been even more alarming than being behind bars. He'd been there, done that and had the T-shirt to prove it; and the scars, both physical and mental.

Now his team were prisoners, and he wasn't there to help them find a way out. Carter had already been through too much lately; the Prometheus, Darth Vader (Oh, come on, surely everyone thought Darth Vader when saw one of those Anubis drones), Fifth. O'Neill admired her tenacity and courage. As a prisoner of Ba'al she was going to need it.

His blood ran cold at what she must have suffered at the hands of the humanoid replicator. Those Replicator guys knew how to inflict pain and suffering; he had first hand experience. Reading between the lines of her report, it seemed Fifth was obsessed with her. What is it with Carter and aliens? He figured Ba'al might be a lot worse. Maybe she could use her charm on him and save the whole team. Anything was possible. He hoped so because right now he was out of options and Ba'al's deadline was approaching.

Forcing himself to relax, he finally slept for what turned out to be only a couple of minutes. Gilmore woke him; Ba'al wanted to talk. Great! Even looking at the guy made him shudder.

"The deadline has passed." Ba'al's hologram image said. As if I didn't know that, thought Jack. It's my friends you have in your nasty Goa'uld hands. "Yeah, look, we're having a little technical difficulty here." 

"Are your friend's lives meaningless to you?"

"Hey! This is not a stall tactic. I would have called you sooner but we can't dial out at the moment.

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm not really sure. Here's some irony for you... Carter... have this thing fixed like that." He snapped his fingers to demonstrate and turned to look up at the control room. He seemed to recall saying something to Siler, but couldn't remember, and then he had turned back to Ba'al. "So, why don't you just send her on through. Before you know it you'll have old Camel-ass back in your grubby little mitts."

"You dare mock me." Ba'al boomed, annoyed. 

"Ba'al, c'mon, you should know ... Of course I dare mock you." They'd already been on this merry-go-round.

"You have one more day." Ba'al disappeared. At least he guy was giving them more time, which was something small to hold onto. Hope.

"Is it really wise to provoke him?" Gilmore asked.

"It's what I do." Responded O'Neill, walking away abruptly. Sheesh! No doubt that meant another black mark in Gilmore's report.

John Prior considered cancelling the President's visit. Jack was not a happy camper; he thought the visit would be good for the SGC, and his staff. However, he also wasn't in a strong position to argue the point. He recalled his conversation with Prior. At the time, they'd been trying to walk through the base undergrowth in radiation suits. Most uncomfortable; he hated those things. How did those guys breathe?

"I'm cancelling the President's visit." Said Prior.

"Really? Why would you do that?" Jack replied sarcastically. 

Jack had already figured that the President wasn't going to visit an establishment that had been taken over by an alien plant. The SGC had turned into a disaster area in Jack O'Neill's hands. That figured!

He could just picture the President in his radiation suit, a machete in one hand, hacking his way through the undergrowth. Jack needed more time, he didn't want this visit cancelled. It would be a pity to waste all his hard work in choosing the bunting and menus.

"I'm surprised you can joke at a time like this"

"Ah, it's pretty much all I can do at the moment." O'Neill didn't like to admit defeat but was powerless.

"The flagship team is in the hands of the enemy. You can't dial the Stargate. The base is overrun by an alien plant!" As if O'Neill needed reminding for crying out loud! It was a catastrophe. Trust me to screw it up, thought Jack. "We did find a ZPM." There was the one upside, and it might prove to be his ace in the hole. O'Neill's mind was constantly working on a plan to get his team safely home. He needed the stargate; without it he had nothing. 

"Sure."

"Give it another day." Jack asked, praying Prior would agree.

"You think you can get everything resolved by then?" John asked him. I hope, Jack thought silently. Perhaps it might work if I get everyone on the base to cross their fingers at the same time. 

"Wait a minute... think there's a joke in there somewhere..." he quipped as they reached and got into the elevator. "... got nothing."

Sometimes he had to ask himself why he couldn't just learn to shut his mouth. He probably would need to in this job, and that was going to be hard. All the more reason to leave and let someone competent take over. His big mouth got him into all kinds of trouble, but had also got him out of it, so there was an upside to that too.

Prior put off cancelling the visit. Cancelling the cancellation... now there was something. It had given Jack time to come up with his solution, so perhaps opening his mouth hadn't been such a stupid idea after all. Having convinced Camulus, all they needed was the gate.

He had a plan, and hope! Even lack of sleep couldn't totally nullify the brilliant tactical mind of General Jack O'Neill. He was pleased he still had all his faculties working away 100 of the time, even when it appeared they weren't.

Davies and Reynolds had come up with an extreme option; off the wall. There was no way O'Neill was going to commit genocide just for the sake of his team, however much he wanted to save them. He wasn't that desperate - yet! Ba'al wanted Camulus; Jack wanted his team. If Camulus gave Ba'al the ZPM he might get rid of both of them and get his team back into the bargain. It was worth a shot.

Jack had been finishing his resignation letter when the lights came back on.

"And so I regretfully submit my resignation. And to be clear – the regret is not so much about the resigning part but the fact that I was deluded enough to think I had possessed even one iota of the ability needed to fill your sizeable and shiny shoes." He liked that, and it was only too true.

Seconds later, Gilmore came to give him the good news.

"Doctor Lee just called down, sir. He feels confident the plant has been fully eradicated. 

So Lee had finally got the plant under control and hopefully zapped for good. It must have take one whole lot of weed killer. Actually, it had been gamma radiation that had sealed its fate, but who cared? The most important thing was getting the gate back on line again so they'd have a fighting chance. All he wanted to do was to get his team home. It was a simple thing to ask, wasn't it?

"I wish I did." O'Neill replied. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been duped by aliens who seemed to want to take over the base.

"Oh, and the dialling computer is back online." Gilmore added. Now that was good news indeed. Jack perked up. 

Just as they were about to send the treacherous camel ass through the gate, Lee called to say that the ZPM had been tampered with and clearly demonstrated it's lethal power to Jack who cringed that they might have unwittingly blown themselves to kingdom come.

The ZPM was no good to anyone, with the possible exception of Ba'al, but it had sparked another idea. Or at least that is how he sold it to Camulus, giving him a chance to destroy his own enemy. Jack was on a roll on the planning front. He could out scheme the best of them.

Although he was half expecting it, it had broken his heart when Reynolds came back through the gate without SG-1. As the Colonel had said, they'd known it was a long shot. He'd lost. Jack returned to his office, thoughtful, morose and determined more than ever that his letter would go off to Hammond as soon as possible.

He reflected some more. Carter wasn't the only one who had been in trouble over the last few months. All his ex-team mates had had quite a year. Daniel was kidnapped and tortured in Honduras. Lee had never stopped bleating about it ever since, although Daniel had remained silent.

The Honduran experience had been a salutary lesson for Jack. He could be an unforgiving and grudge bearing kind of person with a very long memory but meeting up with Burke made him consider that aspect of his character. He was always so sure he was right about things and it wasn't necessarily a good trait. He'd never given Burke the chance to tell him the truth, hadn't even asked him. Instead he had assumed Burke's guilt in the death of their friend - incompetence.

Jack had been pushing to get Burke moved to a 'more temperate' posting ever since. General O'Neill had a lot more power then Colonel O'Neill. He'd have to get back onto that as a priority - before he resigned.

He looked around his office. He had never taken to an office much. Before he accepted the job, he had quipped that he didn't even have an office and Carter had corrected him. Of course he knew full well he had an office but had hated using it.

Strangely he felt more at home in this one than he had in the previous one. Some photos and a couple of certificates on the wall proved that he could actually do things and wasn't just some petty bureaucrat. Most folks at the SGC probably already realised he could actually do stuff other than sit on his butt in an office all day, but it didn't hurt to remind them. It didn't hurt to remind him either. He had made this place a 'home'.

It was this that first gave him doubts about his resignation. After that, it came as quite a surprise when Reynolds had asked to see him in the gate room. All the SGC teams were gathered there, making his heart pump harder. Almost immediately he realised why Reynolds had asked for him and it helped to ease his battered soul.

"General," Reynolds said, "we just wanted you to know, whatever you decide, we're behind you one hundred percent. You just need to give the order and we're ready to go."

The men's determination to stick by him, not to leave SG-1 behind; their loyalty and faith. It was one hell of a boost and it moved him considerably. 

Not long after this, O'Neill decided he should call it a day and go home. He was not one to give up, but was exhausted, had little sleep, and the President was due fairly soon. He wouldn't help anyone if he didn't have a clear head. It wasn't only SG-1 who relied on him now. There were too many people who did; that was one of the problems.

Without doing anything further about his letter of resignation he went to get changed into civilian clothing. The sight of Daniel and Teal'c's lockers next to his brought a lump to his throat and he had to fight for control. If they were gone forever, there was time to mourn for them. For now he had to concentrate on the living, including himself. Until he handed command to someone else there was still a top secret facility to run and he figured falling asleep on the job was not a positive response to the situation.

The elevator door was about to close when he heard the siren, and the words "unscheduled off world activation". Stopping the doors he rushed towards the control room. Crap! What now? Why couldn't it be good news for a change?

It was good news - kind of. Gilmore met him in the corridor.

"It's SG-1's identification code. Sergeant O'Brien transmitted a 'hold' signal back through the Gate and is awaiting your instruction."

They hurried to the control room.

"We're under heavy fire, sir, open the iris." Carter's disembodied voice pleaded.

O'Neill breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that voice. SG-1 was alive! Hope burned bright within him, but it wasn't over yet. They had been compromised and he couldn't open the iris to them. His heart sunk at the thought of leaving them stranded, if they were. How could he do that to them? 

"Negative. Can you re-route?" He responded.

"Negative." She replied, "the DHD is no longer accessible." Jack could hear both gun and staff weapons fire in the background and swallowed the nasty feeling he had rising from the pit of his stomach.

"Jack, what's goin' on?" It was Daniel. Jack took a deep breath before replying, dreading his own words. "You've been in enemy hands. You know the protocol. We've no way of knowing if your iris code is secure." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Daniel came back.

"You were captured by Ba'al." 

"Ba'al?" Daniel sounded very surprised. "We're on P2X-887! We were trapped in Anubis' secret base and when we came out a Jaffa force was waiting for us at the Gate."

"Sir, the Gate's gonna shut down and we won't be able to dial out again!" Carter intervened.

Jack thought quickly. This could be a trick. It would be so like Ba'al to give him hope only to dash it and mount an attack through the incoming wormhole. On the other hand, the sneaky bastard was perfectly capable of making the whole "I have captured SG-1" scenario up, knowing they were trapped, and trying to trick his enemies that way. Son of a bitch! He made his decision, right or wrong, but hoped it was right.

"Open it." he ordered and then into the microphone, "You're clear."

Having exposed the event horizon, staff weapon fire shot up the gate room a little as they blasted through the wormhole, swiftly followed by Carter, Teal'c and Daniel. 

"Nice! O'Neill exclaimed, running down to the gate room to meet them, happy they were safe. "Hey, guys."

Jack smiled as he approached. They were home, safe! A weight lifted from his shoulders. He was disappointed that Anubis hadn't left anything 'cool' behind at his secret base, but more than happy to have his team home. He was just annoyed that the whole thing had been for nothing; all that worry and planning had overtaxed his poor befuddled brain. Now he was probably in deep shit because he'd breached protocol and let SG-1 back through the gate. He wondered what Gilmore had made of that but realised he didn't care. His team was home.

Boy, he missed them - and the action. He recalled the conversation they'd all had when he talked to them about whether to take the job. He'd told them that he wasn't sure he could give up that action, merely sitting back and watching them go off and have all the fun. Daniel's riposte to that comment had been, "Risking our lives in the face of grave danger." So, his point was...?

Jack hoped he'd get the opportunity to get out there, in the field. That was what he'd been born to do, not sit behind a desk giving orders. He well remembered saying, "I've spent my whole life sticking it to the man. If I do this, I'll be the man. I don't think I can be the man." Now he was the man and he had to learn to live with it - or resign. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He'd been grateful for their support, and their input to his decision. They were weighing up the pros and cons when Carter had reminded him of the big can of worms he'd be inheriting, and she was right. Some of them were wriggling around the universe right now; the bastard Ba'al for example, who might be worthy of Jack's attention all by himself.

There were no better people than these three to help him destroy those worms; the brilliant Carter and Daniel and the stoic and strong Teal'c. An alien who had once been his enemy was now one of his most trusted friends. Go figure! Life was full of odd quirks of fate and you probably couldn't get much stranger than that one.

He got the impression that Teal'c was going to miss his old team leader. They had shared so much and both had the hearts of warriors. Of all his team it was Teal'c who he understood and related to most, which was real strange given that alien 'thing'. What did that say about Jack O'Neill, he pondered? Jack would miss Teal'c's quiet companionship as much as the big Jaffa would miss his.

Teal'c needed to get out more, get a life. Perhaps it was time he considered living off the base; he'd talk to him. Okay, so there was the huge honking gold tattoo on the head conundrum to contend with, but they'd think of something.

The Jaffa had changed so much over the years, become more human. He'd had his own share of ups and downs too. Losing his symbiote after 100 odd years must have been pretty weird. Jack thought it strange to have the symbiote in the first place, but Teal'c had got used to it. The T man had lost all faith in his own abilities for a while but had come around just as Jack had hoped he would.

He recalled that when they went on the mission to rescue Ry'ac and Bra'tac, Teal'c had asked him to look after Ry'ac if he died. It was the highest honor that T could have bestowed on Jack and he'd been moved by it. The two men had a very high regard for each other; the Jack O'Neill / Teal'c mutual appreciation society. As Jack understood Teal'c, Teal'c understood Jack. It was the way of things.

The memory of Ry'ac brought him round to thoughts of his own son, Charlie. Dead and buried for many years now, Jack still thought about him frequently, and his own role in his death. It was a hard thing to live with. No matter how many times he saved the world, or universe, nothing would ever wash that stain away.

Charlie had been the light of his life, greater even than his wife Sarah who he'd loved so much. It was wrong for a person to be cut down so young. It was unfair that something so good had been destroyed so needlessly; his son's life and his marriage.

He tried to suppress those sad thoughts, knowing he should be celebrating. After the trials and tribulations of the last few days everything had turned out alright. However, O'Neill was too tired to celebrate.

His chain of thought was inexorable, Ry'ac reminding him of Charlie, Charlie reminding him of Sarah, Sarah reminding him of himself. Or rather the other him. His double, Jon O'Neill the younger version. Hammond had been his contact with the SGC, just in case, and now Hammond was gone. Did that mean that Jack would become his contact now?

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. That whole incident had been a pretty weird experience. How many people could say they had a clone of themselves wondering around? Only one that he was aware of; Jack O'Neill. He wondered how Jack junior was getting along and promised himself he'd make enquiries and let him know Hammond had left. It might be kind of interesting to catch up on the entirely different life he was leading elsewhere. Way spooky, but interesting nonetheless.

Young Jack had been so like him and so unlike him. He hardly recognised his younger self. What must it feel like to be that age but have the knowledge of a 50 year old stuffed inside your brain? It didn't bear thinking about.

Young Jack would also remember all Jack's agonies, and ecstasies; there'd been some of those too. Jack smiled at that thought. It had been a while. He wondered if Jack junior suffered from the same nightmares. At least he hadn't had the knowledge of the Ancients rammed into his brain twice; there would never have been enough room for his homework.

Jack laughed to himself at this thought, recalling his own very disdainful view of homework. He wasn't a total dunce though, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting in Hammond's chair. Not just anybody was promoted to the rank of Brigadier General in the US Air Force. Jack was proud that he was one of the relatively few.

There was so much going on right now. The humanoid Replicators were a future challenge, of that he was sure. They might turn up in this galaxy at any time to wreak havoc, which was a frightening prospect. He might have found a weapon to use against them, earning yet more eternal thanks from his old buddy Thor, but Replicators had proved themselves extremely adaptable in the past. Jack had no faith that they could fend them off with that forever.

On top of that was the political situation on Earth itself, and within his own country. The SGC was under a lot of close scrutiny. If he made a mess of this job there would be untold consequences for everyone. He did not cherish the thought that the programme might be taken entirely out of military hands, which was always a possibility.

He was also pretty sure that they hadn't seen the last of Kinsey, the rogue NID, or other groups who would like more control of the Stargate for their own nefarious ends. There were things in this universe that such people should never be allowed to get their hands on.

All of that was a formidable challenge and he was pretty sure they weren't going to be the only things he had to worry about. In this line of work something bad was always just around the corner waiting to kill, maim or otherwise severely harm them.

His team had reminded him that there was no one who knew the SGC better than him, thus he was the most qualified person for the job. He laughed to himself again at Carter's words to him, "If you don't take the job, we could end up with someone much worse." He knew she hadn't meant it the way it had sounded. She'd been trying to give him a vote of confidence but could be just as bad at finding the right words as he was. Words had never really been their 'thing'.

If he was going to stay in command of the SGC, he had to remind himself that, although there were quite a few things he was pretty bad at, there were many he was very good at. He hoped the latter would outweigh the former. O'Neill was a quick study though. He might have big shoes to fill but the example of Hammond's tenure would lead the way. If he was half as good as Hammond he would think he'd done an okay job.

Right now he was in his office waiting for the President to arrive. The bunting was up, the food ready, the SGC looking about as good as it ever got, and his staff in tip top condition, as he would expect of them.

He'd been right that Carter believed he lacked faith in her command abilities. Why did she think he promoted her? It was still the best decision he'd made since his promotion and it could take a while before he topped it. Earlier on he had bumped into her in the corridor while he was on his way to change into his dress uniform.

"Sir, I wanted to talk to you ..." She'd said, and immediately he knew she was doubting herself.

"Carter, your evaluation is done. And I think you'd be very pleased." He pre-empted the rest of her words. Knowing Carter he could be there all day. "Really?" 

She smiled and the smile encapsulated every reason he had for staying at the SGC. To be there for his people, to bring them home safely, especially SG-1. He was the best person for the job. Carter was right, she inevitably was. It cheered him considerably.

"You had doubts?" He asked her. 

"Honestly? I was wondering whether you were completely confident in my leadership skills." He knew it! Oh boy, Samantha Carter, what am I going to do with you?

"Aren't you?"

"I've been second-guessing myself for ordering SG-3 to remain at the Gate." She confessed.

"Oh, pshaw!" he replied, waving his arms in a dismissive gesture and starting to walk along the corridor with her. He really had to get changed. The President was due soon and he didn't think BDUs were appropriate dress in those circumstances. O'Neill tried to reassure her. "It was standard recon. Your tactics in dealing with the ambush... perfect. You should read what Teal'c and Daniel wrote about your conduct under fire..."

"Can I?" She asked, cheekily.

"No."

"Damn!"

Jack almost laughed.

"Teal'c said you were an animal." He continued, teasing her a little.

"Huh! Such an exaggerator."

"Yeah, isn't he?" His tone was jocular. "Well, this is where I go to take off the clothes I prefer and don the clothes I abhor." He added, opening the door.

Carter stopped him, going on to raise her fears about Ba'al's possession of the booby trapped ZPM. She worked with him all this time and she didn't know better? After she tried to blind him with science as usual he butted in.

"All true, Carter – which is exactly why I didn't give Camulus the tainted one."

"Sir?" She looked puzzled.

"I gave him the dead one. It's worthless, right?"

Suddenly she realised what he had done, clear as day.

"Ba'al's gonna be pretty pissed at Camulus." She said.

"Yeah." He replied, smiling smugly, and she grinned back, not for the first time admiring his simple but effective plan. There was a lot to be said for simple.

So he was still waiting for the President while he mulled things over. He'd reached a monumental decision and was happy he had made it. He would probably regret it, but if there was one thing the last few days had taught him it was that he was up to the task. He could run this place and save the lives of his people, continue to fight for Earth's survival. He could do almost anything he wanted.

The signed resignation letter sat on his desk and he scanned the letter, smiling, particularly at the final two words. They read "never mind". He was here to stay. Now maybe he should start worrying about Gilmore's report. Talk of the devil and he shall arrive, he thought as Gilmore entered his office. Oy!

"General, the President's motorcade is through the gates... he should be getting on the elevator momentarily." Sighing he added, "Sir, I... I think you should know I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Really?" Queried the General

"Yes, sir. The truth is, I've been here on a temporary special assignment from the President."

"Oh?"

"Sort of a civilian audit, if you will"

"Of the SGC?" Jack asked, feigning ignorance.

"Of you."

O'Neill got up and walked towards Gilmore, who looked a little nervous as if unsure as to how the General would react. The man was way taller and bigger than he was, and probably stronger too. 

"I know." Jack confessed.

"You do?" Gilmore was surprised.

"General Hammond told me."

"Well, he wasn't supposed to."

"Well, don't tell anyone."

"Ah... well then," Gilmore continued, trying to explain. "you know the President wanted to make sure you were settling in before he came and shook your hand and fully endorsed you as the leader of this base."

"Uh-huh."

"Obviously, he's here, so, uh... what I mean is I just want you to know how much respect I have for what you do here... and for you."

This was heartfelt from Gilmore. In the short time he had been at the SGC he'd seen a lot happening and had increasingly grown to admire Jack O'Neill. Even the delegates he'd locked up together had made progress, something they weren't doing by diplomacy alone. O'Neill had handled it, and got it right.

It had surprised Gilmore, but sometimes you needed a unique touch. This was, after all, a unique job. He would bet that not all Generals in the USAF were cut out to run this base. They'd been lucky to have O'Neill to take over the reigns. There was no one better and he had told the President so.

Jack was pleased he'd got the seal of approval. It meant something for the whole base, for all his people. They were important to him, particularly his old team mates. They were worth all the bureaucratic shit shovelling he would be doing from here on in.

He loved these guys like bothers and sisters, with maybe a little on top of that for Carter. Jack wished things didn't have to change, but they did. His promotion might have a big impact on the relationship he had with his three friends, but they would still be there for each other.

However, now General Jack O'Neill had an extended family to look out for and suddenly he felt ready to rise to that new challenge. There's nothing like change to keep you on your toes; it made you feel alive. He smiled to himself, pleased and satisfied with his choices.

The End

Stargate SG-1 Fan Awards 2004  
Best New (Ship) Author  
Best Angst (Sam/Jack): Understandings and Misunderstandings  
Best Hurt/Comfort (Sam/Jack): Not Letting Him Down


End file.
